


expectations

by acheforhim



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dirty Talk, Don't copy to another site, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Rimming, Wall Sex, ish, what little plot there is it’s there to justify the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheforhim/pseuds/acheforhim
Summary: “What did you tell them about me?” he asks, and Jaskier sighs.“They asked if you were good.”“Good to you?”“Just if you were good.”“Ah,” Geralt says eloquently. “And what did you say?”“I said yes, obviously.”“Obviously.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 742





	expectations

They’ve only been here a couple of hours and Geralt already wants to leave.

He’s not used to being welcomed in homes where the host doesn’t have a problem that needs dealing with, much less when said host is a nobleman. He’d expected to be dismissed upon arriving, but Jaskier was quick to strike a conversation with the lord’s daughter, and they ended up been invited to stay for dinner and even spend the night. Geralt won’t turn down a free meal and bed, so he doesn’t argue, even when he and Jaskier get separated, which guarantees a dull night for the Witcher.

Male omegas are rare enough to warrant the fawning of all the omega noblewomen, and Jaskier enjoys the attention, lets them drag him to their table and leave _the men_ to their business. At Geralt’s raised eyebrow, Jaskier just waves a hand dismissively - Geralt takes it to mean that Jaskier is glad to let the ladies jest if it’ll let him spend some time with several cheerful omegas after being on the road with one irritable alpha for so long. Their group seems happy an talkative, and meanwhile Geralt is focused on the food in front of him, doing his best to tune out the petty arguments over household matters Lord Whomever is having with his men. They are just as disinterested in Geralt as he is in them, only tolerating his presence for the sake of the daughter, so he doesn’t feel bad for ignoring them.

Yet another bout of giddy laughter draws Geralt’s attention back to Jaskier’s table. This time he’s surprised to see Jaskier looking back at him, a flush high on his cheeks. Geralt raises an eyebrow in question, and Jaskier looks away bashfully, which prompts the women to giggle and tease him. Realizing they were just talking about him, Geralt looks away, too, and tries not to react visibly, even as his mind swirls around, wondering what Jaskier had said.

They’d agreed that pretending to be together would suit them when talking to noble families - they’re much likely to give the time of day to a couple rather than an alpha Witcher and an omega bard, and it’s a lot safer for Jaskier to pretend to be taken, even if they’re in a supposedly respectable household. Still, they haven’t discussed any details of their story, and Geralt has to wonder how the bard embellished it when curious company pressed him for details.

As if to escape their questions, Jaskier jumps to his feet and starts strumming his lute to get everyone’s attention. Even though he’s embarrassed he’s smiling widely, his hair is mussed from one of the ladies ruffling it, he’s flushed and pretty and _happy,_ and not for the first time Geralt wonders why Jaskier spends so much time traveling with him when court life does him so well.

The conversations die down as Jaskier sings, and pride settles in Geralt’s chest at the way the bard captivates everyone. In a weird way, the ladies are looking at him like they’re proud, too, and Geralt can’t help but feel fascinated with how easily Jaskier endears people to himself. As for the alphas… Geralt isn’t enjoying the way _they_ are looking at Jaskier, but as long as they stick to looking there’s nothing he can do about it.

Not that he’d want to do something about it. Jaskier isn’t _really_ his, and starting a fight over him just to keep up the illusion of them being together would be too much.

It would.

Geralt drops his fork lest he accidentally gouge someone’s wandering eyes out and clutches at the arms of his chair until the song is over and he can release them in order to applaud along with everyone else. He doesn’t want to stay here any longer, but he doesn’t want to leave Jaskier alone, either. Thankfully, after a small bow, Jaskier rushes over to Geralt and tugs on his sleeve, urging him up.

Geralt clears his throat awkwardly as he pushes his chair back. “Thank you for the meal. Have a good night,” he says, but before the lords can reply, Jaskier grabs Geralt by the hand and drags him out of the dining hall, all the while pretending not to hear the jeers coming from the omega ladies.

He does stop in his tracks as soon as they’re out, though. He looks up at Geralt. “Do you have any idea where we’re supposed to go?”

Geralt huffs a laugh. “Yes, they told me we’d be on the second floor. Come on,” he says and heads for the staircase. He holds onto Jaskier’s hand loosely, making sure he can pull away if he wants to, but Jaskier doesn’t, probably wary of someone seeing them questioning their involvement.

There is a room with its door wide open on the second floor that is clearly meant for them, aired out and prepared with fresh linens. Jaskier rushes in before him and gasps, and for a moment Geralt wonders what he could have seen in the seemingly sparse room, and then Jaskier throws himself on the bed with a groan.

“A _real_ bed!” he exclaims, voice muffled in the pillow. He wiggles against the sheets in a way that makes Geralt think of things different from the simple search of comfort, so he quickly turns away and busies himself with locking the door.

“Don’t rub your dirty clothes all over the clean sheets our hosts have provided us with,” he says, and hears Jaskier huff behind him.

“My clothes aren’t dirty,” he says, and Geralt turns around to see the indignation he expected on Jaskier’s face. “Besides, our hosts will _expect_ to see dirty bedsheets when we leave.”

“But not actual _dirt,_ ” Geralt says with a frown, and Jaskier laughs.

“Good point,” he says and sits up. He starts to shed his clothes, and it’s not until then that it clicks for Geralt that there is no other bed in the room because their hosts expected them to share. “I think I already claimed the left side, so I hope you’re good sleeping on the right.”

“Sure,” Geralt says. He doesn’t share much, and most time his partner ends up sleeping on top of him rather than next to him. He’s tempted to mention this, but he resists.

He undresses quickly, and they slide into bed. Geralt ends up staring up at the ceiling for a while, feeling awkward not because he’s next to Jaskier but because he’s not nearly tired enough to fall asleep. He turns his head to the side and Jaskier follows after a moment, smiling when their gazes meet.

“Did you have a good dinner?” Jaskier asks, turning his whole body to the side and tucking his hand under his cheek.

“The food was good.”

“It really was.”

They’re silent for a moment.

“You seemed to have fun,” Geralt says, and Jaskier actually hides half of his face behind his hand bashfully.

“Lika and her friends were nice.”

“Nice?”

Jaskier laughs. “They were! They’re friendly. Nosy, but friendly.”

“Noisy, too.”

“Well, yeah. So am I.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Aren’t they expecting us to make noise?”

Jaskier shrugs a shoulder. “They’ll assume you have ways of keeping me quiet.”

At Geralt’s raised eyebrows Jaskier flushes again and makes to turn his back on him, but Geralt reaches for him quickly and keeps him on his back with a hand to his shoulder. He makes sure to show his amusement as he hovers over the bard. Not that Jaskier has ever been afraid or even intimidated by him, but he’s also never been so bashful in front of him, so Geralt treads lightly.

“What did you tell them about me?” he asks, and Jaskier sighs.

“They asked if you were good.”

“Good to you?”

“Just if you were _good._ ”

“Ah,” Geralt says eloquently. “And what did you say?”

“I said yes, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “If I knew you were actually bad, I wouldn’t have lied for your sake. Complaining about your alpha is just as fun as bragging about them. Gushing seemed like the more fun option tonight.”

“You _gushed?_ ”

Jaskier huffs and grasps Geralt’s undershirt to shake him in admonishment, but he doesn’t let go after. “You should be thanking me! Those ladies think you’re giving me the night of my life right now.”

Geralt swallows. “What do they think I’m doing?”

“You’re not letting this go, are you?”

“Nope. You got me curious now.”

Jaskier sighs again. “I tried not to give too many details.”

“Of course.”

“But I think I managed to paint a picture with a handful of words.”

“You’re talented like that.”

Jaskier actually grins at that, though he’s still flushed with embarrassment.

“Well. I might have mentioned you’re even stronger than you look,” he says quietly, not meeting Geralt’s eyes. He lets go of his shirt and smooths over the wrinkles gently before he slides his hand over to Geralt’s shoulder. “Makes certain athletic endeavours possible.”

Geralt actually feels his cheeks start to ache from smiling. “Is that so.”

“Mhm. Doesn’t hurt that your hands are also good for a lot more than handling your swords, too.”

“They’re also good at handling yours?” Geralt supposes, and Jaskier actually whines a little, squeezing at his shoulder.

“I was thinking more of your fingers sheathing themselves places,” he manages to get out, and Geralt ducks his head as he laughs. His hair falls forward, but before he can reach up and tuck it back, Jaskier is doing it for him.

“And all this hair,” he whispers as he runs his fingers through it.

“What about it?”

“It gives me something to hold on to while you use your mouth to undo me.”

Geralt takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the scent of genuine arousal emanating from Jaskier.

“You avoided giving too many details, my ass.”

“Well. _My_ ass,” Jaskier corrects.

Geralt chuckles. “So that’s what you’re looking for? Someone strong who will finger you and eat you out?”

Jaskier’s cheeks flush even darker at the blunt words, his hands pulling on Geralt’s hair a little. “That’s the dream,” he says lightly.

“Don’t know if I can live up to a dream.”

“Oh, I have great faith in you,” Jaskier whispers and finally, _finally_ pulls Geralt down for a kiss.

The whimper he lets out when Geralt deepens the kiss is sweeter than any song.

Geralt pulls at the sheets and blankets blindly, unwilling to separate his lips from Jaskier’s. Jaskier’s legs fall open once he’s freed and Geralt settles between them readily, satisfied to feel Jaskier’s hardness against him when they rub together. As much as he aches to bury himself in the bard’s wet heat immediately, Geralt has expectations to live up to.

He slides down Jaskier’s body, pulling his shirt out of the way to leave hungry kisses on his collarbones, down his stomach and right above his cock. Jaskier is panting as he rises to his elbows to look at him, and Geralt makes sure to hold his gaze as he slips his smallclothes down and licks Jaskier’s cock from base to tip. Jaskier’s face crumples with pleasure and he falls back down, and the room fills with his whimpers as Geralt keeps sucking his cock and teases his hole with his fingers.

It’s easy for him to _sheathe_ them inside the bard, his hole already slick, worked up from all the talk over dinner and after. Makes sense that words would be enough to get the poet this aroused, but it still strokes Geralt’s ego to know Jaskier got himself all wet just thinking about Geralt touching him. It makes him want to get a taste, abandoning Jaskier’s cock for the sake of licking at the tight rim even as his fingers are moving in and out of it.

“Oh, fuck, _please_ ,” Jaskier moans, and Geralt slips his fingers out for the sake of pushing Jaskier’s hips up to give him better access to his hole. He wanted to get Jaskier off with his fingers, to feel him clench and leak around them, but he settles for doing it next time.

He certainly doesn’t complain when Jaskier actually buries his hands in Geralt’s hair as he pushes up into his mouth, moaning and whimpering and whining as Geralt does his best to _undo_ him. When he finally clenches up, Geralt’s mouth flooding with even more of his sweetness, Geralt lets himself feel satisfied at the way Jaskier shakes all over, struggling to take a breath.

When Geralt rises and shuffles up on his knees, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Jaskier’s thighs actually come up squeeze around Geralt’s in an attempt to quell his arousal at the sight.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jaskier whispers. He reaches up for Geralt, and Geralt leans in closer, but instead of letting Jaskier kiss him, he simply hikes Jaskier’s legs up so they’re secure around his waist, then lifts the bard up as he squeaks indignantly. “Geralt—!” he stars but cuts himself off when Geralt pushes him against the wall. “Oh, _fuck_ —yes, yes, yes,” he whimpers as Geralt pushes his own smallclothes down and positions himself at Jaskier’s hole. “Give it to me, make me take it, _ah!_ ”

He doesn’t give himself time to adjust, wet enough still to take Geralt easily, to start fucking himself on his cock. Geralt almost lets him do the work just to see if Jaskier will be able to get himself off just riding Geralt in frustrating little thrusts, but he knows Jaskier wants someone _strong._ He gets a better grip on him and holds him still against the wall, and Jaskier has to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams, but Geralt still hears enough to recognize his pleas, his praise for Geralt’s _big, feels so fucking big inside me, Gods_ cock.

Never one to deny himself pleasure, Jaskier doesn’t try to hold his orgasm back, lets Geralt wrap a hand around him and fuck long spurts of come out of him. He pulls Geralt into a messy kiss as he shakes through it, trying to ride him again, as if the way he’s squeezing around him isn’t enough to make Geralt come along with him. He groans and presses deeply into Jaskier, filling him with his come, and Jaskier all but melts against him. He kisses Geralt sweetly once they have their breath back, and Geralt feels the ridiculous urge to stay like this, buried in him, forever.

He’ll have to settle for as long as it takes for his knot to come down.

He peels Jaskier off the wall carefully and carries him to bed, then lays down on his back, letting Jaskier settle over him. He chuckles to himself and Jaskier lifts his head to look at him in question.

“Won’t be sleeping on the right side of the bed after all.”

Jaskier looks like he doesn’t quite get why it’s funny, but he smiles at him anyway and pushes a lock of hair away from Geralt’s face. “You’re cute.”

It’s not the comment he expected. “And you’re very sweet,” he says, licking his lips. It makes his stomach flutter to have Jaskier hide his face, bashful again now that they’ve cooled down. “I hope your faith in me was justified.”

Speechless for once, Jaskier just lets out a little whimper and squeezes around Geralt’s cock, making him groan and thrust up even though he’s as deep inside as he can get.

“Fuck.”

“Mhm,” Jaskier says, squeezing again, and Geralt doesn’t even know if he can get off while he’s already buried inside an omega.

Looks like he’s about to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mordrecl)


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